


Iphigenia and the Minotaur

by Ania



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Theseus and the Minotaur
Genre: Background Femslash, Erotic Horror, F/M, Fisting, references to cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ania/pseuds/Ania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theseus was not the first tribute.</p>
<p>Iphigenia was the last of her year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iphigenia and the Minotaur

**Author's Note:**

> A nonny requested "Monster/human (as humanoid or alien a monster as you'd like) with an emphasis on the strangeness of the monster's physicality." in a [100 words or so of kink thread](http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/191221.html?thread=1043969269#cmt1043969269).
> 
> I thought of "Theseus and the Minotaur," a myth that has always had great erotic potential to me. I decided to go with a medieval depiction of the Minotaur instead of a Classical one. I know various things about m/m relationships in Athens, but not f/f; however, I threw in an f/f relationship anyway because I like them. I also don't know anything about bull dicks, and made up something vague instead of doing research.

Iphigenia was the last girl to enter the labyrinth. She thought they'd all go in at once, but it turned out the Cretans released one Athenian into the labyrinth every week or so in order for the tributes to last the full year. It had seemed a boon at first, that extra time, but then her new friends kept disappearing one by one, until Iphigenia was the only one left.  
  
Now she, too, wandered the labyrinth. She wondered if any of the others were left, particularly Helen. Helen had befriended Iphigenia from the start, and after half a year together Helen had removed her chiton and pressed Iphigenia down, exploring her body until trembling, Iphigenia had explode with pleasure. She had fallen to Helen's wicked hands and clever mouth, and all knew why Iphigenia fetched Helen's wine and fed her grapes from her hands, seeking to prove her devotion so that Helen would continue her attentions and not find pleasure with one of the more beautiful girls.  
  
Inside, however, Iphigenia knew Helen was gone. She knew even before she turned the corner and spotted him, the Minotaur.  
  
He did not look as she expected. The vases all depicted him with the head and tail of a bull, but the legs and equipment of a man. It was not the truth.  
  
His head was a man's, with fair curls and a pouting mouth. He looked as fair as any of the tributes, the sort of youth grand men would have sought to take under their wings. (Aside, that is, from the bull's ring hung from his sloped nose.) And the tail was true enough.  
  
But the supple flesh of his torso shaded into fur, and beneath his waist he was all bull.  
  
He smiled ironically at her, expecting the surprise. Of course, he saw it forty times a year. And Iphigenia was the fortieth. He approached her, hooves making a sharp noise against the dried clay floor of the labyrinth.  
  
"My final bride," he greeted her, reaching out to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Not the most beautiful, but more beautiful than the last. Tell me, have you ever lain with a man?"  
  
Iphigenia shook her head.  
  
"Alas," he sighed, "that makes it easier, but they seem to think I'll prefer virgins."  
  
She trembled, as she realized what he meant by calling her his bride. It seemed worse than simply being eaten, and perishing in an instant.  
  
He grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder, trotting off to a small bedchamber. She watched his tail swish back and forth above his bristly furred cheeks as he walked.  
  
He sat her down, and positioned her on her knees so that her hips were lifted but her head rested on a sweet-smelling pillow.  
  
He licked her, much as Helen had, his broad tongue coaxing her body to open itself to him. Then he started using his fingers, thrusting them into her wet center. Iphigenia closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Helen's small hand pleasuring her, but she couldn't ignore how thick his fingers were, nor how forcefully he pushed in and out of her, especially not as he added more fingers.  
  
She cried out as her walls expanded and realized he'd added his thumb, and now the widest part of his hand was entering her body. As the base of his thumb passed through, her body grew greedy and pulled him in to his wrist. His other large hand moved to grip her neck, holding her firmly down as he pulled his hand back out and then pushed it in again.  
  
Iphigenia appreciated the gesture, for that heavy hand on her neck grounded her as she got used to his rhythm. She understood that he needed her to stretch in order to enter her, but this was for her benefit too. She knew how to seek pleasure in the touch of a controlling hand, even if her last lover had been more subtle about it.  
  
Finally, he removed his hand, and placed his blunt-tipped member against her entrance. He stroked the back of her neck gently, the kind of calming motion she might have used to calm a spooked goat in her former life.  
  
Oddly, as he entered her, she did not think the strangest thing was the immensity of his cock. That was what it was, a stretch that made her think her delicate inner skin might tear, although she found that the bite of pain actually made her drip more freely. She marveled at her body's capacity to give pleasure.  
  
No, the strangest thing was the feel of his hips kissing hers. They were muscled and firm like a soldier's, but that hair. It tickled and rubbed. She'd petted animals with coarse fur before, but it had never felt like this, pushed up against her and then gone. Her flesh seemed to be getting more sensitive as he plowed her, and the fur caused a pleasant burn that contrasted the ache of being filled too full.  
  
When he came, his fluid filled her womb and then spilled out as he left her body, leaving her open and sore. The cool air of the labyrinth felt strange against her heated flesh. She sank down to the bed, and stirred only when the minotaur offered her a bowl of stew.  
  
She took it gratefully, then noticed the bits of meat in the broth. She looked up at him, silently questioning.  
  
"It's fine if you choose not to eat it," he said with impressive indifference. "Most of you die of starvation."  
  
"If I eat?"  
  
"My seed is powerful, but none have survived giving birth yet."  
  
Iphigenia closed her eyes, reaching down to cup her swollen sex in sudden horror.  
  
She wondered what Helen had chosen.


End file.
